


hold the nail for the hammer stroke

by colonelcatastrophe



Series: wake my spirit cold [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Gen, Ghosts, Kid Fic, Mental Health Issues, Protective Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 17:41:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17923391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonelcatastrophe/pseuds/colonelcatastrophe
Summary: The siblings, One through Seven (Minus Four), try to solve the mystery of what's going on with Klaus.This would be an easier task if they weren't nine years old, and if Klaus wasn't busy freaking out in the corner of the basement.Companion to "wake my spirit cold" chapter five.





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> This is the other siblings’ perspective from "wake my spirit cold" chapter five. (Recommended to read up until chapter five of THAT series first; but do what you want, I’m not the boss of you.)
> 
> Please note the possible trigger warnings above. 
> 
> This was just going to be a one-shot but I'm a walking disaster, so it'll have two chapters. Title from the lyrics to Spirit Cold by Tall Heights.

When Klaus suddenly stands up from the table, everyone else follows his lead. It’s natural by now, after Father has been drilling them with training for the last few years, and the last few months in particular. When one leads, the others follow. Usually, though, it’s not Klaus at the forefront. He begins to move away from the table, backing away slowly as though there’s a wild predator staring him down, about to spring into attack with claws and teeth at the ready. But it doesn’t make sense, because his siblings around the table are the only ones he’s facing, and none of them have given him any reason to respond that way. 

Klaus’ eyes seem glazed over, and his gaze is aimed just above their heads - but there’s nothing there except the refrigerator. Ben and Vanya exchange worried looks. They’re only nine years old, but they’ve never had a typical childhood; they recognize that while no one in the family would necessarily _predictable,_ this kind of behavior is far beyond Klaus’ usual emotional volatility. This is something else, something _wrong_. 

And as much as he tries to mask himself with carelessness or superficiality, Vanya and Ben both know how deep his wells of sensitivity can run. If any of them say the wrong thing, his insecurities will begin to spiral. He pretends like he doesn’t care, but he does. He really does. 

Vanya, for one, can’t hide her gasp of surprise when it’s _Allison_ who finally says that _very_ wrong thing. All bets would have been on Luther, since he’s the one with the lowest tolerance for shenanigans. Or, alternatively, on Five, since he’s the one with the lowest tolerance for bullshit. Or on Diego, for occasionally (read: usually) lacking tact. Never Allison.

But against all indication, it’s Allison who speaks first. 

“You don’t need to keep doing this, Klaus.” 

Vanya had _seen_ the devastation in Klaus’ eyes the night before, when Dad dismissed his fears so easily, as he accused Klaus of only wanting attention. Vanya wouldn’t have blamed Klaus if it _had_ been only for attention - Dad certainly hadn’t bothered lately with anyone but numbers One through Three. Still, for him to make that kind of bold claim had been cruel, especially in light of the fact that Klaus had literally _passed out in his bed_. He couldn’t have done that if he was just playing a role - or if he could, then it was time for Dad to send Klaus to drama school because he had massive untapped talent there. Vanya doesn’t know what Klaus saw last night, or what he might be seeing now, but she believes him. _With her whole heart,_ she believes him. So what if his reality might be a little different than theirs? In a way, it’s always been different for Klaus. She wants to reprimand Allison for her ungracious assumption, but her attention hyper-focuses on her brother instead. She knows his reaction to Allison’s words will be anything but healthy, and she feels a twinge of unwarranted guilt-by-association as a conviction of betrayal crosses Klaus’ face. 

As the room begins to implode in what feels like slow-motion, Five walks around the far side of the table and approaches the space near Klaus, crossing his arms over his chest in the process, studying the shivering boy and occasionally glancing towards the refrigerator, his brow creased in concentration. 

Klaus is talking so fast now that his words are hard to differentiate. “I swear, Allison, everybody, I’m not making it up. I’m telling the truth. He’s invisible to all of you, I get that now. But I swear. He just walked through the table. He’s so real to me. So real.” Who just walked through the table? Who was so real? There’s… nothing there, on the table. Nothing except their discarded breakfast dishes. 

Diego’s fingers twitch at the frenzied, nonsensical explanation. His instinct is to go to his little brother - _little,_ because while they’re all technically the same age, he knows he’s older than Klaus; he feels it in his bones. Klaus wouldn’t be able to successfully annoy him as much if _he_ was the older brother. Diego wants to wrap Klaus up in a quilt and make him finish his cereal, and simultaneously whack him across the back of the head and tell him to _stop being so weird._ He can’t determine which tactical move might be the most successful, so he makes neither. 

He doesn’t think Klaus is lying, or making this up for attention. What he’s afraid of is much worse. Diego knows how hard it is, to be cooped up in the mansion all day, with no outlet, creative or otherwise. He knows that it’s been especially hard for Four and Seven lately - without the abilities that the others have, there’s nothing for them to waste their time on, other than dwelling on what could have been if they’d not been born destined for the Umbrella Academy. All seven of the children are shuffled from facility to lab and back home again, left to occupy their own time with no real parental affection - their father views them with curious detachment at best, abusive hostility at worst. And they’re only _nine_. Diego feels so much older sometimes - he suspects many of them do - but that doesn’t change the fact that their bodies and their minds are only _nine_. As much as they might hate to admit it, they’re all fragile enough to break. Klaus might just be the first, Diego thinks, watching with deep sorrow at what he assumes is his witty, lively brother’s mind crumbling to pieces in front of him. 

“Tell us more.” Ben’s demand seems to knock Klaus out of his cloud of panic, at least momentarily. “Tell us everything you know about this guy. There’s seven of us, and we’re not stupid, so we can figure out what this is if we work together.” Ever perceptive, Ben knew that if they could just get Klaus talking, the might be able to snap him out of it. There was very little that Klaus loved more than talking, so much so that it was notoriously difficult to get him to shut up. If they could get him started, they could begin to gather some information - because Ben didn’t want a repeat of last night, being left in the metaphorical dark, helplessly holding a broom while his brother raved and worked himself into hysterics - while also, hopefully, distracting Klaus from whatever he was experiencing. He doesn’t think for even a _second_ that Klaus is pretending. But whether this is some sort of waking-hallucination or (what seemed more likely) a manifestation of some kind of ability, it’s obviously deeply disturbing.

Five doesn’t react to Ben’s suggestion for Klaus to tell them more. Luther looks up with mild curiously while Vanya nods with enthusiasm. Diego, on the other hand, can’t help his bleak reply. “And we’re sure there’s something to figure out?” It seems pretty straightforward to him. Klaus is losing it. They just have to determine how best to help him deal with… whatever he thinks he’s going through. 

“You’re making it worse,” Ben whispers sharply under his breath, shooting Diego with a dagger-sharp stare. 

He begins to prompt Klaus again, but it seems that he needs no further encouragement as Klaus begins to paint a visual picture of what it is that he sees. Oddly specific details begin to piece themselves together. A man on a bike, bleeding and injured in a car accident yesterday. This was the third episode, then, Ben catalogued: once, in the intersection yesterday; later that night, in Klaus’ room; and now, at breakfast. 

Klaus’ rambling grows louder as he begins to shout, not _at_ them, but just… a general increase of volume. Klaus had always had an enthusiastic imagination - something he shared with Ben - but this was beyond simple invention. It sounded like a nightmare that had grown out of control, too unruly to be weeded down. When he begins giggling feverishly, Ben frowns and wrings his hands together. Klaus’ next words act as no reassurance. “He’s just. Screaming. He asked me to help him, but I can’t, not while he’s so _loud_.” Ben glances at the others, feeling just as lost as his brother sounds.

Allison watches all of this with wide-eyed trepidation. She hadn’t meant to be _accusatory_ , earlier. But it didn’t make sense. People didn’t… see invisible people. Not in the way that Klaus had described, anyway. The problem was that she’d thought over the timeline: if the man had been injured yesterday (if it even _was_ the same man), there was no possible way he would still be bleeding this morning. Blood congealed far faster than what Klaus implied with his description. The most damning evidence, though, was that Klaus hadn’t called for anyone, before. When the man appeared in his room, last night, he hadn’t let anyone know. She had heard his lamp crash - she was still awake in her own room, listening to her record player quietly - so she remembered the shattering of glass echoing from down the hall. But Klaus’ scream hadn’t come until much later. The details just didn’t add up. Besides, the explanation that Klaus was only making it all up was much easier to swallow than the alternatives. The longer she watches him, though, the harder it becomes to doubt his experience. 

“Maybe we should get Mom. Or Pogo. Somebody,” Vanya suggests to Ben quietly. 

“ _Don’t_ get Mom. You think she’ll keep this a secret? No.” Five’s words are steely and leave no room for argument, before unhelpfully adding, “He’s gonna pass out again if he doesn’t calm down.” 

Luther’s voice breaks in for the first time in the conversation. “All of you are useless.” 

“What do you mean, useless?” Diego narrows his eyes. Ben looks like he’s about to protest as well, but Luther ignores both of them. Despite what the others might assume based on how dismissive he often acts towards Number Four, he doesn’t actually like seeing Klaus like this. And while they might be wrapped up in their conspiracies and theories about what’s really going on, there’s a kid in front of them who’s clearly physically, if not mentally, falling apart. Luther cracks his neck and stretches out his arms for a moment, as if to ready himself for a race, before heading over to Klaus. The others are too far away hear what he whispers in the darker-haired boy’s ear, but Klaus breathing begins to even out and his skin, which had turned a pasty shade of grey, began to even out to its typical pale hue. 

While Luther is occupied with Klaus, Five teleports back to his seat at the breakfast table, the slight _pop_ startling the other four siblings. He raps his knuckles pointetly against the tabletop a few times, like a judge calling the court to order. 

“Family meeting. All except for you, Luther. You stay there. Gather ‘round, everyone else.” 

Luther remains at Klaus’ side, murmuring instructions for each breath that Klaus takes, while Vanya, Ben, Allison, and Diego reluctantly leave Klaus in Number One’s hands. They all instinctively take the chairs nearest to Klaus, leaving Five alone on the opposite side of the table. 

Five folds his hands and sets them on the table in front of him calmly. “Ben said it earlier.” He nods in Ben’s direction as if to give him credit. “There are seven of us. Well, six, since we’re obviously down one. Let’s put our heads together. Who wants to go first?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be up tomorrow, or maybe later tonight since this is more fun to write than my midterm papers. Edit: Yeah, who's kidding who, it's already up.
> 
> Any and all feedback welcome. 
> 
> If you're reading this, I appreciate you.


	2. part two

Five has laid the question out on the table, but none of the other three siblings seated across from him immediately respond. 

“Come on,” he says impatiently. “It’s almost nine, which means one of us is gonna get called up for training soon. We’ve got to talk this out now, or we’ll be down to only _five_ semi-functioning brains.” They’re six strong now, as Klaus is definitely out of commission for this particular conversation. Although he’d at least stopped laughing, he still doesn’t look anywhere close to ‘well.’ 

Vanya presses her lips together, not wanting to contribute until she has something to say that’s worth their time. “You go first, then.”

“Alright. Fine. I’ll tell you right now, he’s not lying.” Five looks pointedly towards Allison. “I went in his room last night while he was locked in, and he was freaking out. Much like this.” He nods towards where Klaus still cowers against the basement wall, his face crumpled in distress despite Luther’s presence and quiet reassurances next to him. It looks like it would take a crowbar to pry Klaus’ eyes open at this point. 

“You can’t blame me for wondering.” Allison’s curly hair falls in her face as she leans forward across the table towards Five, a defensive gleam in her eyes. “I saw him react to whatever was in the street yesterday. Yet it makes no sense.” She clearly holds up one index finger. “One: I can almost remember seeing a crushed bicyclist, but no man.” She holds two fingers up. “Two: Klaus keeps talking about blood. If the man got hit, the blood would be long dried by now. Plus, there wasn't any ambulance zooming off. It was only sitting there, so there must have been no one to help.” 

Ben seethes at Allison’s expression of doubt, the tips of his ears reddening. His immediate reaction is to jump to his brother's defense, even though he knows that Allison's points might have some merit. Vanya, who notices his indignation, reaches out to hold the sleeve of his uniform between her thumb and forefinger, a subtle admonishment to remain calm. He takes a breath. “I agree with Five,” Ben says haltingly through gritted teeth. 

“I didn’t say I was positive he was making it up, but it isn’t far outside the realm of possibility.” 

“I’m glad you’re able to dismiss our brother’s concerns so easily, though, that’s really great to know, Allison—” 

Before Ben can continue picking a fight, Five cuts in arrogantly. “It doesn’t matter whether or not we agree. We all know I’m right. It’s how we explain this away since he _isn’t_ lying. Maybe--” 

“--I don’t know why we can’t go get him help, stat. He needs it,” Diego interrupts clearly, his conviction giving him confidence. “I know we can’t risk Dad seeing all this, but telling Pogo—”

“--Sure, because telling Pogo is as good as telling Father.” 

“Was anyone even listening to me?” 

The bickering continues, with only Vanya remaining conspicuously silent. She glances over her shoulder nervously to see if their squabble is disturbing Klaus (any further than he already is), but he doesn’t seem aware of them at all. She can’t fault them for arguing, as the situation is gravely important, but like Five said - they only had a finite amount of time to figure this out. 

She pounds her palm on the table, just enough to jolt the silverware and make them clang against the wood. The other four at the table trail to a stop in their arguments. “I have a suggestion. A simple one. Maybe too simple, although… our lives are so strange anyway…. None of us have seen what Klaus is seeing, but Allison… what you said about the ambulance.” The ambulance was what linked it all together. If an ambulance sat at an accident, any accident, and its lights were off, it had been too late for whoever it had meant to help. Yesterday, there had already been an ambulance, with its lights off, when they'd pulled up to the intersection. 

It’s rare that Vanya commands such a rapt audience - granted, it’s more out of desperation for answers rather than respect, but the level of attention is unsettling. She avoids their eyes, staring at the grain in the table instead as she continues with a slightly wavering voice. “I’m not the expert on this, but with your abilities. You all developed them over time. Ben didn’t just have tentacles ripping out from his torso as an infant. Five, you took a couple of years to get the hang of your deal. Same with the both of you. What if this is Klaus’ power?”

“Hallucinations?” asks Diego doubtfully, morose at the thought that Klaus might have gotten dealt such a wretched hand. 

“More like… seeing and hearing the dead?” Vanya suggests, as more of a question than an answer. “If the man died, in the accident, that is. It would make more sense.”

“It could potentially explain the blood,” Allison realizes slowly . “And the invisibility.” 

The logic did seem to check out. Ben shrugs. “It’s not any weirder than what some of the rest of us can do. But why has he seen only the one man? Surely there are billions of ghosts floating around.” 

Unfortunately, Pogo’s voice suspends the siblings’ debate. 

“Master Ben,” he calls, his voice echoing down the staircase, “You’re wanted in the study. Immediately.” 

Ben curses under his breath. Five ushers him towards the hallway stairs. “Go. We’ll catch you up. But Ben? Feel free to take your time training today.” There was an implicit command in his words, and Ben nods. He’ll keep their father occupied for as long as he could, even if that means prolonging his training session. Klaus will owe him for this. Actually, he already owes Klaus. _Actually,_ he’d do it for Klaus anyway, he thinks as he heads for the stairs. 

The remaining siblings settle back into their discussion. “Ben had a point. But maybe they have to connect with him somehow? Or he’s not strong enough yet? I don’t know.” Vanya bites her lip uncertainly.

Diego scoffs. “Yeah, ghosts, sure.” Not to disparage Vanya’s contribution, but: her suggestion was stupid. Absolute nonsense. Impossible, in fact. He looks over towards Klaus and Luther, and the latter catches his eye. Diego nods questioningly towards Klaus and Luther only shakes his head minutely in reply. Not doing any better, then. He turns back to the rest of the group. “Wait, where’s Five?” 

Where _was_ Five?

As if they had conjured him into being by calling his name, Five reappears in his seat instantly, a folded newspaper sticking out of the inside of his jacket. “Managed to bring this with me,” he says, pulling it out and unfolding it smoothly on the tabletop. If he hadn’t been so distracted by all the drama and hysterics, he could have thought to look at the newspaper far earlier. “Snagged it from the corner of Dad’s desk. Morning edition. And look.” 

He jabs at a story on the lower half of the page then rotates the paper so that it’s facing the rest of the group. They all lean closer to read the text, and there it lies, in black and white: a report about a bicycling accident on the corner of Inverness and Cane, right where they’d passed on their drive yesterday. One casualty. “Vanya’s theory checks out.” 

Diego stares at the page, horrified. There’s… no way. If this was Klaus’ long-awaited ability, it was even worse than hallucinations. Seeing dead people? Like some kind of human ouija board? “No,” he says firmly. “No. If it’s true, Klaus would hate it.” 

“If it’s true, I don’t know that he’ll have a choice.” 

They let the words hang uncomfortably in the air. “Allison’s right,” says Five, folding up the newspaper again, but into an even smaller square that he tucks into the pocket of his shorts. “Besides, it’s the best idea we’ve got.” He rubs his hands together fervently. “So who’s gonna break it to him?” 

Diego stands up abruptly, flustered. “I mean, are we sure that this is it? We’re not sending him on a wild goose chase?” 

Five waves off Diego’s concerns scornfully. “Oh, we’re sure. We can confirm it, too. We ask him to ask the ghost what its name is. If he can tell us correctly, then that’s that. Case closed. I assume Klaus came straight downstairs after his door got unlocked. We can check it against the security footage, but I’m betting there was no time for him to read up in the daily papers. If he knows it, it’s straight from the ghost’s mouth.” 

“We could make up a better explanation,” Diego tries. “Something less… awful.” 

“I would want to know, if it was me.” Vanya’s small voice rings with sorrowful sincerity. Diego certainly can’t argue with that. He looks to Allison and Five for confirmation. More to Allison, as Five has already stated his position pretty clearly. 

Vanya’s words have seemingly impacted Allison as well, who self-consciously pushes her hair behind her ears, her face growing slightly warm. “Vanya’s right. We have to tell him the truth. I can do it, if you want.” 

“No. It should be me.” Diego sighs, resigned. He was already standing, anyway. He crosses the basement floor with the solemnity of a funeral procession. Klaus hasn’t moved, his eyes still pinched tightly shut, his now-sweaty hair hanging in his face, pinned to the wall as if by a magnetic force. Luther is now running his hands up and down Klaus’ arms to warm him up, but Klaus doesn’t seem to acknowledge him in the slightest. Diego imagines that the… ghost… is still making noise. Talking to him. Or rather, shouting at him, like Klaus had claimed earlier. 

Diego shudders. 

He makes eye contact once again with Number One. “Did you hear?” he mouths slowly and silently. 

“Enough,” he confirms, also mouthing the word. Diego almost feels guilty that they didn’t consult him at any point in their debate, but Luther had been doing what he did best, and in turn, they’d achieved what needed to get done in the meantime. 

It’s now or never. 

Diego doesn’t stifle the impulse to take Klaus’ hand, as though some more physical contact might lessen the impact of what he’s about to suggest. 

He takes a deep breath and leans in close to his brother’s ear to deliver their verdict.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of this story picks up with the last chunk of chapter five of "wake my spirit cold" and will continue in chapter six. 
> 
> Thanks for joining me on this little detour of a side-fic!


End file.
